


Take Me Back

by whovianlord



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Fluff, I Believe in Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianlord/pseuds/whovianlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock returns and begs John to take him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Back

**Author's Note:**

> All comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.

"No!"

John wrenched his arm free from Sherlock's grip and ran down the stairs of 221b. He was desperate to escape, desperate to clear his head. Sherlock Holmes was alive. He had died. His skull had been crushed into the pavement, but hey? Why was that important when that same bastard was apparently immortal? 

John dashed for the door and was inches away from freedom when a deep baritone stopped him in his tracks. 

"John."

John groaned and cursed under his breath as he turned to face his consulting detective. 

"No, Sherlock. Just no."

John turned away and had his hand on the doorknob when an iron-hard grip on his arm pulled him back.

"Don't you fucking touch me, Holmes."

"Why not?" Sherlock growled.

"You're dead, Sherlock. You threw yourself off St. Barts after claiming you were a fraud. I saw your head smashed into the pavement and felt your failing pulse as your heart stopped beating."

John's legs started to tremble, his voice started to break and tears filled his eyes. Years of mourning had come back to haunt him. 

"You are not real. You are a distant memory of a man I once loved. You are a ghost, Sherlock and you should have faded by now."

John had bottled up his grief for too long and was finally facing the consequences. He was relying entirely on Sherlock's grip to remain standing. He had never spoken about it to anyone before now, let alone the ghost of the man himself. 

"John. I'm real. It's really me."

John shook his head violently and clung to the detective.

"That's what they all say," John choked.

##He's been hallucinating that I'm alive.##

Sherlock hugged John's torso as his knees buckled and all hope of staying sane vanished completely.

"No, no, no. John. I'm real. Feel me. Touch me. I'm alive. I'm here for you." Sherlock grabbed John's hands hand placed them on his cheeks. His doctor's hands were trembling and his whole body was shaking.

"Please, John. You have to believe. You have to believe in me."

John looked up at his ghost and saw something that the real detective could never show. Confusion. Sadness. Love. 

"Why should I believe in someone who lied to me for three years?" John pulled himself free from Sherlock's arms and opened the door to leave.

"Please, John. I'm not asking for you to love me again," Sherlock begged. "I'm just asking for you to take me back."

"You're asking for me to take back a ghost?" John wept. "You're not even real." With the quickest of glances back to remember his detective's face, John sprinted out into the street, away from the man who had once saved his life and into the path of an oncoming truck.

"No. John!" Sherlock yelled, but he had already gone. 

People were rushing to his husband's side, putting him into the recovery position, trying to gauge a pulse. It was all useless. The only man who could save your life had gone which left Sherlock with no reason to live.

A week later 

Sherlock lay slumped against his husband's headstone. It was identical in every way to his own headstone which contained some unknown body. The two graves were sitting next to each other proudly. Together eternally... almost. 

"You loved me once, John. I loved you too and I never told you. Not even in our wedding vows. You always knew. You'd still be alive if I hadn't been so stupid. How you managed to talk to me for three years I'll never know. I don't imagine you'll see me by your graveside again. Goodbye, John."

Sherlock dragged his body from the ground and walked from the graveyard. He never saw the shadowed figure emerge from the trees. He never saw the figure fall to its knees and clasp his headstone in agony. He never heard the figure call his name for the last time.


End file.
